Shadowlands
by stargwynn
Summary: Sequel to Vessel of Blood. An "Apocalypticfic." Dean-centric with Cas, Sam, Lucifer/everyone comes in for the final battle between good and evil-but determining who is on which side is becoming increasingly difficult. Disclaimer: All credit to Kripke
1. Chapter 1

Dean was gone. There was no closure because there was no body…they didn't know what happened. It had been two days and it seemed wrong to do nothing, even if there was nothing to burn or bury. So they lit a fire and burnt one of Dean's prized possessions: his leather jacket. Sammy knew that it was a family heirloom of sorts, but he also realized no one but Dean could pull the look off in this decade. As they watched the flames consume the beloved but worn object, each member of the trio was absorbed in his own thoughts:

**Castiel:**

_He is gone. It was all for naught. The world is still going to end. He was supposed to lead the fight._

**Sam:**

_I can't do this, Dean. You were always here…you were the strong one. I'm nothing without you. It didn't do any good to save me._

**Bobby:**

_Stupid idjit! Why'd you have to go and sacrifice yerself? Damn Winchesters….just glad you ain't here to see this codger crying over your sorry ass._

* * *

><p>Sam walked back to the Impala through the black night, the light of the waning fire flickering reflectively on its darkened windows. He paused-gut aching and the back of his throat burning. The Impala and Dean were intrinsically linked. Every time he saw the car he thought of Dean and the times they had spent together in it. As he stared into the blackened windows, the flames from the distant fire seemed to dance over its surface, creating flitting figures. He stared into the windows. Slowly a figure was taking definite shape. Sam's breath caught in his throat as Dean's face stared back at him. Sam closed his eyes, giving his head a quick shake. When he opened them he still saw Dean. As Sam looked closer, he saw that Dean was trudging along an abandoned highway in the wilderness.<p>

"Sam?" Sam jumped and gave a quick gasp as Bobby approached. "You okay, son?" Sam hurriedly looked back at the window. Nothing. Just the light and his grief playing tricks on him.

* * *

><p>Dean looked around him. To the sides of the road all that he could see were fields that ended in thick forest. He looked ahead of him and behind him: a straight road as far as the eye could see. His eyes tightened in confusion.<p>

"Hello?" He shouted to the emptiness. His voice echoed in the expanse, but seemed to come back to his ears hollow—as if he were in a closed space. He grimaced, feeling the nothingness around him. Not knowing what else to do, he began walking, following the road for hours. The scenery never changed around him, the road never twisted or turned. It was like he wasn't even moving.

He didn't know how long he kept on like this before he saw a small figure in the road ahead. Heart quickening, Dean sped up his pace and shouted hoarsely,

"Hello? Someone there?" The figure didn't react to his call, but continued to look out across the field into the forest. As Dean approached, he saw that it was a boy around the age of 12. The boy just stared into the space before him. Dean turned, standing side by side with the boy, trying to see what the boy saw. Spotting nothing, he turned to the boy, whose features looked pained. Not knowing what to do, Dean placed his hand on the boys head, ruffling his brown hair gently.

"Its gonna to be okay. We'll find our way back." The boy turned away from the woods for the first time and faced Dean, meeting his eyes penetratingly.

"Find our way back where?" Dean's eyes flitted back and forth as he searched for an answer.

"Home." He said.

"I don't have a home." The boy said matter-of-factly. Dean's head jerked back at the bluntness of the statement.

"Well, then, how about your parents?" Dean knelt down on one knee so that he was eye to eye with the boy.

"Gone." He responded, once again looking back at the forest. Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes briefly.

"What's your name, son?"

"Joshua."

"Okay, Joshua, what are you lookin' at over there?"

"The woods are dark."

"Yeah. But that's ok, we'll stick to the road."

"You can't see what's in the woods from the outside. You have to go in. Why are you afraid of what you cannot see?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, if we're talkin' a rhetorical 'you', then 'you' would be afraid because you can't see it. It's unknown."

"But you won't know from the outside. You must go within."

"Huh." The kid reminded him of Sammy's depth. Were they still talking about the wood?

"Who are you, kid?" Dean was suspecting not all was as it seemed, though he didn't even know what to base that assumption on since he didn't even know what 'this' even was. The boy looked at him meaningfully,

"I am Joshua." He said it as if it answered the question completely. Dean nodded, accepting that as the only answer he was going to get.

"Well, c'mon Joshua, let's keep walking." He took the boy's hand and attempted to walk. The boy jerked out of his grasp instantly. Joshua's blue eyes widened in earnestness.

"The road never changes. It goes on and on."

"Then how do we get out of here? And, who would make a road that doesn't go anywhere?" He spoke to the air and wasn't expecting an answer.

"You made this road."

"What?"

"This is your life. You didn't want anything to change; you wanted to always know what lies ahead. There it is. It goes nowhere. It's always 'more of the same.'" Dean flinched at those words.

"What do you know about my life?" The boy just continued his penetrating stare. "What is this place?" Dean threw up his hands in agitation.

"This is a crossroads. You can continue on this path forever, as you did in life, or you can face the darkness." The boy pointed to the forest.

"What's in there?" Dean asked with trepidation. Joshua took a hold of Dean's hand with his small one and reassured,

"I will guide you." Dean met the child's gaze. It was full of sweetness, care and confidence. "But only part of the way." The hunter tore his eyes away from Joshua, looked up the road, then back to the dark wood. Gripping the little hand tighter, he stepped off the road towards the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at Bobby's, Sam was mindlessly going through some old books on the Apocalypse. He knew if Dean were here, he'd recommend some silly end of the world B movie for research. He smiled at the thought, but a lone tear travelled down his cheek and splashed on the page, smearing the ink. Gosh he missed the jerk! In a way, though, at least Dean was free from it all. As strong as Dean was, he'd been through more than enough in one lifetime…or was it technically more than one life? Maybe it was selfish to wish his brother still alive. He understood the reasoning behind Dean's last actions. He'd saved his little brother entrusted to him at the age of four by their Dad. He'd saved Sammy from the undeniable destiny of the demon blood—also fulfilling his father's commands. If the devil's plans for Sam were defunct, then maybe the Apocalypse was, too. However, none of that made the loss any less painful.

Bobby wasn't taking it so well. He'd hit the bottle pretty hard, recently. Dean's spunk and spirit had kept him going long after he would have given up hope. He needed Dean's light hearted banter and bright eyes twinkling with mischievousness to keep his own darkness at bay. Now Bobby depended on a different kind of "spirit."

Cas had vanished right after the burning ceremony. As full of grief as Sam was, he had still tried to comfort the angel…but Cas was inconsolable. Dean was the only experience or connection to this new way of life he had—though all he went on about was Dean's destiny to save the world, Sam knew it was more than that. Castiel was broken and Sam wondered what the angel planned to do with his existence now.

The sound of someone rapping on the door jolted the hunters out of their thoughts. Sam got up and answered it.

"Delivery for Dean Winchester?" Sam choked on a swallow and said,

"I'm his brother. I'll sign for it."

Once he closed the door, Sam stared at his brother's name written boldly in black marker on the package. As he looked at the forest of black scratches labeling Bobby's address, the lines seemed to morph into trees, surrounded by darkness. Sam rubbed his head, willing the illusion to pass. What was going on with him? The demon blood was gone, so he couldn't be having visions. Putting the thought aside, he brought the package in to Bobby.

"Who do you suppose its from?" Sam asked.

"How the heck would I know, kid? Jest open it." Sam complied, breathing in sharply as he read the name on a letter contained in the manilla envelope.

**Chuck**

Sam read the letter aloud:

_To Dean Winchester, in the event of my death:_

_Hey Dean,_

_I guess if you're reading this then I'm dead and gone. I suppose you'll want to kill me (again) for not telling you everything before, but, let's face it: I'm a writer and it was easier and more dramatic this way. By now I'm sure you've realized this whole Apocalypse thing is bigger than you thought—that you have a huge part to play in how it turns out. My role ends with this letter. I am the last of the prophets, and one will come after me that is greater than I and is more than a prophet. You must follow him and do everything he tells you. It's the only way you can stop all this._

_I am sorry to tell you this, and I've put it off for far too long, but the one thing I know about stopping the end of the world is that you have to destroy Sam. I know you think it's unbearable, but you must find the strength to do it. As long as your brother is alive, you cannot go on to the next stage of defeating Lucifer. In order for the world to survive, you must live and continue fighting without your brother. Only you can end it Dean. You must face the end alone; but you will find strength where you least expect it. _

_Well, that's it. I know you're going to fume about being all cryptic, but although I am a prophet, I don't see everything, and what I've told you sums up what I know __**must**__ happen in this stage of the story. _

_I know you'll do the right thing, Dean. The questions you still have for me must be answered by another. It is not my place. "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts." The curtain has closed, this player exits, begin **Act II.**_

_Chuck_

* * *

><p>Once Sam had recovered sufficiently from the difficult words, he looked up at Bobby.<p>

" I guess Cas was right, without Dean we're screwed._" _

"Maybe not." Simultaneously Sam and Bobby jumped.

"Jeez, Cas!" Sam said startled. Cas looked at Sam strangely, remembering who it was that usually uttered those words at his sudden arrival. Bobby interrupted the reverie,

"We got a letter from Chuck."

"Yes, I heard." Sam swallowed, wondering if after hearing the prophets words, the angel would smite him then and there.

"There's no need to fear, Sam. I won't harm you."

"But the prophecy?"

"Dean debunked all prophecy with his actions. He saved you, Sam. Everything's changed. Maybe, through his sacrifice we can end all this."

"How?"

"We need to find this person Chuck speaks about."

"The one 'greater than I'?" Bobby asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Yes." Sam's face lit up like a light bulb.

"I think I found something!" The other two looked at him expectantly.

"I've been doing some reading...(he cleared his throat awkwardly)" He held up the Bible.

Bobby and Cas raised their eyebrows. "I thought we put that one away along time ago, Sam. Things aren't going according to that playbook."

"Look, what with all that's happend...my 'redemption' or whatever, and Dean dying, I'm searching for answers, you know? To more than just the Apocalypse." Sam defended. Bobby shrugged.

"You were always the deep one."

"What is it, Sam?" Cas asked. Sam opened the book and flipped through its pages.

"'But there shall come one mightier that I, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to loose.' Its John the Baptist saying this, the last prophet who pointed the way to the Messiah."

"So, whoever is coming, they must have some pretty serious mojo." Bobby said.

"This doesn't tell us how he can be found, or what he's going to do."

"No, but it gives us the parameters we need for research. Its also time we hit up some of our more religous contacts for information. Rev. Caleb wasn't the only cleric to get involved in hunting. I'll see what they can tell us about all this. Maybe they're privy to something we aren't."

There were a few moments of thougtful silence as Sam and Cas stood alone in the room.

"Say, Cas? Do you think God is actually coming?" Cas looked up, his eyes filled with confusion.

"I don't know anything anymore, Sam. But I'm not counting on someone else to fix this. I'll do it myself." In a flash the angel had gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Midway through life's journey, I came upon a dark wood, and the straight path was unclear

* * *

><p>Dean walked into the woods. His senses tingled, and he felt pin pricks run up and down his spine. He looked back at Joshua, seeking assurance,<p>

"If I go through here, I can go…home?" He wasn't even sure what he meant by home.

"You can go wherever it is you wish." Joshua replied. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"It's not like there are a lot of options, right? I mean, earth, heaven, hell-been there done that, all three of them. Can't say I like any of them or really WISH to go anywhere."

"You want to go back to the road, then?" Dean sighed. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't want anything…he felt that nothingness creep back into him. There was NOTHING.

Joshua stepped back and addressed Dean:

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing."

Dean's eyes widened. "Okay, quoting Shakespeare. What is that supposed to mean?"

"That is how you feel. You are not the first to experience it."

"So, quoting some dead guy is supposed to make me feel better? Not the most hope inspiring lines I've ever heard."

"In order for you to move on you must look into the dark places. I am voicing what you are holding inside. Search these woods; make your way through the shadows and the darkness."

"So, these woods…its like…my _soul_?" Dean's voice almost cracked on the word. Joshua nodded.

"In some ways, yes. You must go on alone, now." Dean's head shot up.

"What?"

"I cannot go further into these woods unless you let me."

"Okay, well, I want you to come."

"You want me to enter into these woods with you? To the very heart of them, every cleft and niche?"

Dean swallowed. They weren't just talking about some forest, here. This was his SOUL. What were they going to see?

"I can't do this alone…" Dean struggled. "I can't face it. You don't know what's in there. I've tried my whole life to forget. A kid like you shouldn't see what's in there…no one should…what I've seen…the things I've done…" Dean choked.

Joshua latched onto Dean's hand. "Hey!" He made Dean look at him. "Who you callin' a kid?" Joshua smiled, then added, "I'm not as young as I look."

Dean met the boy's eyes. They were so full of innocence, free of guile, yet simultaneously brimming with wisdom and understanding of things beyond his years. Still, how could he let a stranger see what he could not face in himself?

"Once you're in there, and see it…you'll leave." Dean said despondently.

"Because everyone always leaves?" Dean's face crumpled in pain.

"Dean, look at me. Look into my eyes and see that I'm serious: **I will not leave**." The hunter chuckled dryly at the choice of words, but as he contemplated Joshua's face, he believed him.

"Ok, kid. Let's do this." Dean's heart seemed to stop and plummet into his stomach as he faced the darkest thicket. He closed his eyes in trepidation, fearing the darkness, but forced himself to open them again widely.

* * *

><p>"Bobby, where do you think Cas went?" Sam asked as they drove along in Bobby's car.<p>

"Your guess is good as mine, son."

"I'm kinda worried about what he's gonna do."

"Yeah, funny, I never thought him the type to go off the deep end."

"So, what are we gonna do about Jeffrey? Leave him in the lock up til Kingdom Come?" Sam asked.

Bobby shrugged. "We'll let him cool off a little longer."

The car pulled up to the house, and the two hunters were soon in the kitchen gathering together a lunch.

"Well, all we got outa that trip was a whole steaming pile of nothing." Bobby grumbled. They had tried finding more information from religious factions about the coming apocalypse. All they'd found were some crazy groups talking nonsense about how the human race was created by extraterrestrial scientists in test tubes from their own DNA, and that aliens would come down to once the experiment was completed, wipe out all life on earth and start over.

As Sam raised his water glass to his lips, he heard a footstep in the doorway. When he looked up, he saw Jeffrey.

"How did you…?" Bobby started.

"You underestimated me, Singer." Jeffrey pushed the older man against the refrigerator. Sam rushed Jeffrey, only to be tossed aside. Right now his own psychic powers would have come in handy!

Sam watched in horror as a large knife flew through the air and sunk into Bobby's abdomen with a sickening sound.

"Noooo!"

"What are you going to do about it, Sammy? Not so fun now without your super demon powers, is it? You destroyed the one chance to end all this. It's all because of _you_!" Jeffrey raised his hand to smite Sam.

So this was how it ended, Sam thought.

"You will not lay a finger on him." Jeffrey flew across the room and was pinned to the wall. Sam looked up.

"Jesse?" The boy looked over to Sam and smiled, then he directed his gaze to Jeffrey, and his entire demeanor was transformed. He breathed in, and power radiated from him. He seemed to grow taller and Sam was suddenly afraid. With a flick of Jesse's hand, Jeffrey disintegrated into thousands of pieces.

Sam swallowed in awe and fear.

"Don't worry, Sam." Jesse smiled. He reached out a hand and helped Sam up. It seemed like the kid had grown exponentially since he'd last seen him. The boy he remembered could only have been a little over ten, but the boy before him was a young man—19 at least. Then he remembered: Bobby! Sam rushed over to the old hunter's fallen form. It was bad.

"Jesse! Quick! You gotta help him!" Jesse shook his head sadly.

"Unfortunately, my powers do not include that of healing." Sam looked up in dismay, then quickly dialed 911.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm actually writing the end of this story simultaneously with the beginning, so that I get the plot perfectly laid out. Big things are ahead, that's all i can say. Also, thanks for the alerts and favorites...but I'm starving for a review...? I'm putting a lot of work into this, so if if you could let me know what you think that would be great...that way i can avoid making future mistakes, and make the story even better. Feedback fuels the muse! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter was inspired by timetowaste247's review, who has remained with me on this story since Vessel of Blood. This if for you! I hope it makes up for what was lacking in Chap. 1. Thanks for the critique!**

* * *

><p>Sam watched the scene play out in slow motion: Bobby being rushed off to surgery on a gurney, orderlies and nurses scrambling to stop the bleeding, trying to stabilize him. Blood…blood was everywhere. It was on Sam's hands, his shirt, and his face. His hands trembled as he suddenly was transported back to the motel bathroom on that fateful day. This time, it was Dean's blood everywhere. It was inside of him. Sam clawed at his stomach, recalling the strange sensations that coursed through his body after consuming his brother's blood.<p>

Since that day, Sam had focused on making Dean's sacrifice count. He couldn't stop and grieve, because he knew it would overwhelm him. He had taken a page out of Dean's handbook—he'd shoved it into the deepest recesses of his mind. But now Bobby, and the blood, so much blood…Sam's vision swam and all he could see was red. He couldn't hold back the tidal wave any longer. Jesse held onto Sam's arm as he swayed. Sam saw Jesse's mouth move, but Sam was deaf to the sound. He scrambled outside to the parking lot and he screamed out, his voice jagged and despairing. He fell to his knees on the cold hard cement, pulling his hair in abject distraction. His grief turned to despair and Sam slammed his fist on the ground, the small bones within it snapping at the impact. Sam heaved a huge sigh of relief, welcoming warmly the distraction provided by the physical pain. It focused his mind amid the swirling maelstrom of emotions, thoughts and reasonings. Sam reached the eye of the frenzied storm raging within him: anger. At first it was nameless, directionless, but then he saw a face: Dean. Sam aimed all his anger at his brother. Dean left him; he took away his powers, leaving Bobby vulnerable to Jeffrey's attack.

Sam felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and the female voice of a hospital staff member reached his ears,

"You okay, there?" Sam jumped to his feet and pushed the woman away violently. She fell to the ground, shocked and startled. Sam hesitated, seeing the result of his outburst, but then stormed off to the car.

He put his hand on the driver's door latch, pausing as rage boiled off of him in waves. His current anger rivaled that of the demon-blood. He longed to be free of the confusion, of the pain. He wished he didn't have to CARE, anymore.

"Sammy, Sammy. I told you you would say yes to me willingly. Look at you now, ripe for the plucking."

Sam's heart dropped as icy tentacles latched onto and suffocated it. Lucifer. He could never forget that sweet, insinuating voice, with an undertone of heartlessness. "No, no, no, no, no." Sam whispered, feeling compelled to look at the speaker.

"You have no hold over me anymore, Lucifer." The devil sniggered pitilessly.

"You mean the demon blood thing?" He smirked playfully. "Pftt." Sam regarded him, confused.

"Its YOU, Sammy. I mean, the demonic blood helped, but look at you. You don't need any of that—your own blood boils like a demon's, Sammy. You're my bitch. You always were." Sam's form splayed back against the car in horror as Lucifer approached. The devil smiled in satisfaction, but his demeanor changed when he saw Sam look over Lucifer's shoulder. Satan turned around to see what had drawn Sam's attention away from HIM.

"Jesse, my boy." Lucifer's lips curved evilly into a grin. "I was wondering where you had gone off to. Have you rethought my proposition?"

"No."

"So you'll let me take Sam, instead?" Jesse head lowered, and he looked up at Lucifer, smirking. In a flash the boy vanished and then reappeared in between Lucifer and Sam. He touched the hunter and they disappeared, leaving Lucifer alone next to the car.

Sam sat up breathless from where he'd fallen after the hasty departure.

"Jesse? What the he…" Jesse raised his hand to stop the expletive.

"I'll explain everything, Sam." Sam waited with bated breath for the reveal.

"I was alone for a long time after I left you and Dean. I didn't know what to do or where to turn, until I finally met up with an angel. Falcor."

"He was a demon!" Sam exclaimed.

"Yes. But he trained me, showed me how to utilize my powers. When I discovered who he really was, I left, but not before Lucifer was made aware of my presence because of the use of my powers. He offered to give me direction, to be my father, and in order to do that, he would become part of me. He said I would never be alone. I refused, remembering what you guys told me about my destiny. Fortunately, I can transport without being traced, so I got away. Later on I discovered Falcor had found a new pupil—Jeffrey."

Sam nodded. "So we're in the same spot here."

"We can't give in, Sam. No matter how hard it gets to go on. We can follow what Dean started. We don't have to succumb to destiny. Together, we'll stop this thing." For the first time in a long time Sam felt a flicker of hope, but his thoughts returned to Bobby.

Jesse read his thoughts. "We can't go back to the hospital. Lucifer will be waiting for you." Sam sighed in resignation.

"You are the one we've been waiting for. It's you Chuck spoke about." Jesse nodded.

"Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

It seemed the forest was never-ending. Dean faced one horror after another. Events from his life materialized before his eyes. Some of them were things he'd done, some, things he'd gone through. His mother's death—much of the memory Dean had repressed—hit him full force with all the sights and smells and sounds of reality, but after he had experienced it all once again, it ended with seeing his mother's face as he had seen it in that place right after he died…with his father…happy. Then the darkness passed, and a path was made visible…leading straight to another thicket.

Dean didn't know how long this went on. All he knew was that he'd made it this far, watched everything he hated about himself and his life play over and over again like a movie stuck on repeat, and still Joshua stayed with him.

They were making their way to the heart of the forest, and it was blacker, and the brambles more dense, hindering their way. Dean heard a laugh floating on the wind. He felt tendrils of horror ice his soul. Alastair.

"That's it, Dean. Very good." The demon stepped aside and waved Dean over to a torture rack. Dean looked down and saw that he held a hideously jagged knife, blood on its blade. He looked down at his shirt and saw gore plastered to its surface.

"Please…p..ple…eeeeeeeeaase!" The girl on the rack sobbed. Instantly Dean recognized her as the first person he tortured…she was a teenage girl.

Dean dropped the knife, raising his hand stained with the girl's blood to his face. The girl looked him in the eye, accusingly, fearfully, horrified.

Alastair caressed Dean's cheek, putting his face close to Dean's. He could feel the demon's breath on his face. "This was the best torture, yet Dean. You thought it was over, but it was just the beginning. Sure, I ripped your guts out again and again, but YOU ripped your soul out, shredded it, until there was nothing left. Alastair touched Dean's chest, patting it gently.

Dean fell to his knees, hands lax at his sides, as all the horrors of hell spread out before his eyes.

"You think that you can just go back to _living_ after this, Dean? You are already dead."

Millions of voices echoed back lifelessly, "We are the dead."

"What do you say, Dean? Come back to us. It's the only place you should be allowed to exist. Who else would have you but me?" Alastair stood above Dean's kneeling form and kissed him on the top of his head with a sick kind of tenderness. Dean closed his eyes tightly, not breathing.

"Joshua?"

"I'm still here, Dean." Dean opened his eyes at that.

"You didn't leave? You saw…?"

"Yes, Dean.

"I…I have to go with…_him_." Alastair smiled at Joshua triumphantly.

"Before you do, there is something you should know. No one gets out of Hell."

Dean looked up at Joshua. "But I did." There was a pause. "You mean…that's…not…Hell?" Joshua shook his head.

"No, Dean. It wasn't. But if you go with Alastair, you will go there, and you won't get out." Dean faced Alastair for the first time.

"Look what you did, Dean! You _should _be damned!" The demon spat, spittle spraying Dean's face.

"He's driving you to despair, Dean. That's what it's all been about. If you despair, then you will be lost forever."

Dean backed away from Alastair, confused. The demon rushed up to him and grabbed Dean by the front of his coat, pulling him close until their foreheads touched.

"You have no hold over him here!" Joshua shouted. Dean's body felt weak, and he didn't even try to struggle, for he had neither the will nor the strength. He moved his hand and touched the amulet, thinking of how Chuck had saved him in a similar circumstance. He held up the necklace and hoped beyond hope that something….sure enough, light emanated from the trinket and Alastair shouted, releasing Dean. Hell vanished, leaving Joshua and Dean standing in a clearing, light streaming down from amongst the clouds in rays.

"Whew! I'm glad you closed that door. Not my favorite place." Joshua exuded relief.

"Door? What do you mean? What is this place, and what did you mean that wasn't actually hell? It sure as _hell _felt like it!"

"In answer to your first question, this place does more than show you the realities in your soul. It is itself a doorway. For instance, Alastair is really a demon, but the place that you went when you died was not the real hell. It was a place meant to seem like it. Alastair's mission was to break you and turn you in the pit, and to break the first seal, both damning your soul forever, and bringing about the reign of his Master on earth."

"You ever wondered why out of all the things you've hunted, this whole angel/demon/God thing was completely against all lore ever recorded? That's because that's not what this is. There is no lore on earth to research these things. These creatures have been blocked from resurfacing since the Tower of Babel. Yes, that story is true. At the time of the confusion of the tongues, every creature was separated into its own kind, leaving mankind alone. The devil has been slowly releasing them for centuries, corrupting those creatures that were originally good, just like he corrupts man. There are more things in heaven and hell than you ever dreamt of. The end is coming and it has brought together all creatures to face off in the final battle. Forces for good and for evil are amassing."

"And where is "God" in all this, huh? I mean is there actually a heaven and a hell, a god and a devil, or are they just more monsters and creatures and places messing with my planet, with my people?"

"They are very real. But what you've been told about them by the supposed angels and demons is bogus."

"Wait, you mean, Cas isn't…?"

"Castiel was tricked. Every race and creature created its own mythology, some being very close to the truth, but through the millennia things got twisted and confused. In the place where he and his kind were locked Lucifer corrupted the most powerful who in their turn either followed Lucifer, or set themselves up as the new authority, claiming to be receiving direct orders from God himself. Castiel did save you from what he thought was hell, and he really believes himself to be an angel of the Lord. And he did save you, Dean. You would have been lost forever without him."

"So, all this is going down, the end of the world, seals being broken, devil's gates or whatever being opened and letting monsters run free, and God, what? Does nothing? You're trying to tell me that maybe the heavenly host and its leader aren't as douchie as I thought? Doesn't sound any better."

"Did you really think that it was all so Homeric?"

"Come again?"

"Never mind. The point is that you know the reality of the situation. The Devil is trying to bring about the end of the world. He has been trying to do it since its genesis. He wants to spit in God's face, get back at him by destroying his favorite creatures, the ones God held higher than his angels when he became one of them."

"Well where is this God if he values us so much, which I don't get, by the way. We're a pretty sorry lot."

"It is written that after the Son of Man ascends to his Father, he will come again on the Last Day in all his power and glory."

"But what about now while all this is going down?"

"That's just not how he works, Dean."

"Yeah, mysterious ways, huh? My foot! How do you know so much about it?" Joshua smiled.

"I have connections in high places."

"So, can_ you_ stop it? You got some major mojo or something?"

"That's your job, Dean. I'm here to help you." Dean harrumphed.

"Yeah, well I can tell you I don't have squat. Other than the weird, angel blood thingy, which is useless against the Devil by the way."

"You are not without weapons." Joshua pointed to the amulet hanging around Dean's neck.

"What, this? I was wondering when you were gonna get around to explaining that."

"The amulet was made by Adam, and the face is meant to represent the FACE OF GOD. To remind Adam of what he'd had in the garden of eden—he had been able to walk and talk with God himself. It was made from wood from a tree in the actual garden."

Dean looked at the amulet with newfound awe. That would explain a lot.

"So, its, uh, kinda old, huh? I mean, I knew Sammy was cheap, but I mean, gosh, talk about outdated jewelry."

Joshua shook his head at the humour. "It's time you went back to work, Dean. Much is happening down there."

"But I still don't know what to do!"

"But now that you've faced your own demons, you are ready to face the real one. You let me in, you let me help you. When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

Dean blinked. He recognized the same words his father used in that…. "other place".

"What'll it be, Dean? It's your choice."

"Well, I'm not about to let Sammy face this alone. And if the world's gonna burn, then I'd rather die fighting it, even if we can't win."

Joshua smiled, but it slowly faded into sadness.

"What is it?"

"There's one more thing I have to show you….You aren't gonna like it."

Joshua reached out and touched Dean on the forehead. Dean stepped back as images flashed through his mind vividly.

_He doubled over as pain erupted from every inch of his body, tears coursed down his cheeks as he watched Sam approach and grab him. Sam struck him repeatedly and viciously in his wounded side. "Sammy…no…please!" He gasped as he fell to the ground, blood gurgling in his throat. His cries went unheeded as Sam grasped Dean's throat, strangling his appeal for mercy._

"_That's it, Sam. Now, kill him." Dean lifted his glazed eyes upward as he gasped for breath and saw Lucifer standing at Sam's back. He looked back to Sam, and his little brother leered as he tightened his stranglehold._

Dean came to himself, shaking on the ground. He touched his throat, still feeling the fingers cutting into his airway and arteries. He held his head gingerly, experiencing the effects of asphyxiation and obstructed blood flow.

"Sam." He mumbled.

He heard Joshua's voice echo in his ear, "And the brother shall betray his brother unto death."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! It's longer than those previous, and this chapter focuses on Dean's side of the story, but don't worry, Sam and Jesse will come in soon. A special shout of thanks goes out to milkshake42 for helping me touch up the edges of this chapter in particular, as well as for the moral and creative support! :)**

* * *

><p>Joshua knelt down next to the still trembling Dean, who's eyes were full of sorrow and pain.<p>

"It's not true…" Dean sputtered. "It can't be. Sammy would never do that." But he had unmistakably seen his brother's murderous eyes, and knew it to be the awful truth.

"What you have seen cannot be avoided."

"I gave my life for him."

"I know it's hard to believe that your own brother could betray you like this, especially after all you've done, but you must find strength elsewhere. Help will come when you call."

Joshua looked up to the sky, as if listening. "It is time. Goodbye, Dean." He touched the amulet. "Keep it with you, always. It will give you strength when you have none."

With that, Joshua disappeared, leaving Dean alone once more.

He looked around him at the empty field, the tall grass blowing in the wind like so many waves on an ever changing sea.

After several moments of silence, Dean's mouth opened and twisted, his face furrowed in response to the ache in his heart. It was unlike any pain he'd ever encountered. Even the ritual branding had not cut this deep.

He pulled on the grass stalks for release; veins bulging in his face and neck with the inner strain, hot tears burning in his eyes.

"Sammy. What am I supposed to do, man?" His words only brought more pain, if it were possible. He knew his brother hadn't done anything, yet, but he knew with absolute certainty that what he'd seen would come to pass. He knew it because he had not only seen, but had felt the betrayal. It was not only air that Sammy had squeezed out of him, but that look, that leer had drained the life out of him more effectively than any violence.

"Hey, there! You ok, son?"

Dean looked up, startled by the sound of a voice other than his own. A middle-aged man had stopped his car at the sight of the young man laying in the field. The man walked over when Dean didn't respond.

"You okay?" the man repeated, crouching down next to Dean.

Still lost in his thoughts and in his pain, Dean didn't register the words, only the man's presence and the fact that his mouth was moving.

"Are you dead, too?" Dean asked, his eyes glazed, unfocused.

The man jerked at the strange question. "What? No! You're ok, son, just let me get you some help." He'd gathered that either the boy was in shock or was a nutcase. In either case, he figured the best place for him was the hospital, where they could take care of both.

When he touched Dean, assuring him that everything was going to be ok, the boy flinched.

"Whoa! Easy, son."

"That felt real. Am I alive? Where are we?" Dean asked with slight pauses in between as he looked around him with the new-found revelation that he was in fact, alive and on good old earth.

"Bear Claw, VT." The man raised an eyebrow. "How did you get here?"

"I…I was lost in the….woods…" Dean tried.

"How long?"

Dean shook his head. "I dunno. Too long."

Sighing in concern, the man introduced himself, "I'm Francis, by the way." Francis waited for the expected response, but none came. "Son?"

Shaking himself, Dean replied hurriedly, "Dean. My name is Dean."

"Dean. Okay, then. We better get you to the hospital, get you checked out. I'm sure you've got folks worried about you."

Dean sat up at that. "No! I….no family. 'M fine. Don't need hospital." Francis observed Dean closely.

"So what were you doing in the woods?"

"Long story. Uh, had to work through some things."

"So you went on a soul-searching walk through the biggest forest in Vermont and ended up lost?"

Inwardly, Dean thought how close to the truth Francis' statement actually was. He nodded, "More or less."

Francis looked at the man on the ground and nodded with empathy, "Been there."

Dean wanted to say, 'You have no idea, dude!' but took the words at face value. Francis was trying to be kind.

"Say, hate to put you out, but you think you could give me a lift to the nearest town?"

"You got any money, kid?"

"Uh…" Dean said scrambling for his pockets, thinking Francis meant he wanted something in exchange for the ride. Coming up dry, Dean shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

"That's what I thought. You come with me. I'll fix you up with some food and a place 'til you get yourself together." Dean smiled. The show of kindness barely touched his troubled soul, but it was something.

Francis helped Dean up, and if Dean had been in a normal state of mind he would have noticed an angel blade glint in the sun as Francis' jacket shifted.

When they finally pulled up to Francis' house, Dean was offered food and water. Truth be told, Dean couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd been more ungryus for thirst, nothing could compare to the thirst he felt after rising from that hell-hole Alastair had him in. Dean half-heartedly accepted. Despite his body screaming for nourishment, his heart was so heavy he could have gone without for days before noticing. This revelation about his brother was more earth-shattering than the Apocalypse, the end of the world, angels and demons, and even heaven and hell. As brothers, they had been able to face every new, impossible challenge—together. United, they stood against the powers claiming to be heaven and hell… if divided, how would they fall? Dean's musings were interrupted by a sickeningly recognizable voice,

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Thank you, Francis. I knew our boy would pop up…or down, sooner or later. Where was it exactly that you were, Dean?"

"Zachariah." Dean said, his voice soft, yet deadly.

"Not in a sharing mood? That's ok, it doesn't really matter, as long as you're back. We have lots to talk about." He waved his hand, and all the doors and windows closed and locked ominously.

"You don't scare me, you two-faced douche. I know what you really are, or rather what you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"You're no angel of the Lord."

"Oh…that."

"You've got a lot of nerve claiming to carry out orders from God on high."

"Well, you know, people always want a god to follow, and since He ain't broadcasting…"

"So what is all this Michael crap then, if you're not real angels? There's no way he can actually ice the devil."

"Well, you see, Dean, Michael is the most powerful of my kind, our general of sorts, who's taken on the persona of your little world's Archangel. And, since everything is going down on this planet, the end of everything, so to speak, he needs to be here!" Zachariah took a breath and composed himself. "But he cannot cross over to this side without a vessel because my kind was prohibited from entering earth in our own form after the Fall. Too powerful, I guess. But we've found a way around that."

"Now, are you ready to welcome him in, or do we have to do this the hard way?" Dean felt Francis poke the angel blade into his back menacingly.

"I may not be an angel of the Lord, but I know a thing or two about inflicting pain." Zachariah clenched his fist to prove his point, and Dean's insides seemed to tighten and dislodge from their wonted places. Dean grunted, unable to yell out, as the pain increased.

The front door burst open and a voice shouted out, "Enough!"

Through the tears of pain, Dean recognized Cas, and he started a smile that turned into a grimace as Zachariah pulled Dean's body taught like a string. "Who are you to tell me what to do? Know your place in the chain of command." Zachariah turned his back on Cas, renewing his efforts directed at Dean. "I do not take orders from you anymore. I have returned to that place you called heaven. Now I know there is no such thing, there is not God, there is no wrath, no justice—only will.

"So, now that you went home, **against orders**, I'm sure you'll have the sense to stick with your own kind, and not some misplaced loyalty to these insignificant creatures." His eyes flashed cold with cruelty, and his head oscillated eerily on his neck like a reptile. Dean choked as blood bubbled up into his mouth.

"I said, ENOUGH!" As Cas spoke, a force pushed everything in the room forward as though met with a mighty wind. Dean slammed against the wall, and crumpled to the floor, still gagging on the coppery liquid.

"How did you…?" Zachariah stammered, his eyes wide with confusion.

Cas smiled, "I learned a few tricks since I've been away. I suggest you run home, and tell everyone there that there is a new player in town, and that he will brook no challenge."

Immediately Zachariah vanished, followed closely by his crony, Francis.

Dean's attention faded in and out, and he didn't notice Cas' approach until he felt the 'angel' touch him on his shoulder.

Dean smiled. "Knew you'd save my ass, Cas."

"Well, at this point, I think you dying again would be redundant."

"As much as I'd like to say it gets old, you never really get used to it." Dean countered. "So, you know about the 'angel' thing?"

"You mean that I am not actually a servant of God and my brothers and superiors are similar to the monsters you hunt that "God" locked up to keep humanity safe? Yeah, I got the memo."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Where'd you get the attitude? I don't remember you being quite so snarky. Look, Cas, angel or not, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you your rumpled self. I need all the help I can get, and right now, you're all I got."

"It's good to see you, too Dean," Cas said as he helped Dean to his feet

"So where'd you get that super-sonic mojo?"

"I've travelled to many places while you were away, Dean. Learned many things, absorbed much power."

"Places?"

"There are innumerable gates to dimensions where creatures have been locked for centuries. There are many old and hidden things there."

"And you OPENED these gates?" Dean stared, open mouth, disbelieving.

"They should not have been caged like that. Besides, this is the time, during the last days, for all creatures to roam the earth freely once more."

"Cas! We're trying to STOP that from happening! What were you thinking?"

"It's okay, Dean. I have it under control. Soon I will have enough power to defeat Lucifer, and I can then create a new order, a new rule over Creation. "

"What? I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Dean shouted in frustration, "Putting aside how insane that is, how the heck could you get that kind of power?"

Castiel's eyes dropped to the amulet hanging around Dean's neck. Dean sighed, cocking his head, honing Cas into a fixed stare. "Oh, no."

"Dean, you don't even have any idea what it is you carry."

"Yes, actually, I do."

"It is said to carry one-half of the power of God, the other half stolen by Lucifer when he rebelled. Others say it hold the primordial power of the universe."

Dean looked down at the small charm he thought had been worthless only a few days before. "Well, Joshua failed to mention that."

"You cannot hope to wield such power, Dean."

Dean looked up, a sudden realization dawning upon him.

"Why? Because I'm human? I dunno, Cas. I don't think I'm willing to hand over so much power over my world to someone who thinks so little of its inhabitants."

"I don't want to, Dean, but if you do not give it to me, I will be compelled to take it."

Dean backed closer to the wall, wincing in pain at the movement. He grasped the amulet in his hand, while holding out the other defensively.

"As you wish." Cas said sadly. He grabbed Dean easily by his shirt collar and batted away Dean's protective hand from the amulet. As he grabbed the precious object, attempting to tear it from Dean's neck, Cas cried out in pain as his hand sizzled. The amulet had turned red hot, belaying its theft.

Dean watched breathlessly as Cas backed away, clutching his hand in pain. Their eyes met, regret flitting across both their faces before Castiel vanished.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean lay on the floor of the farmhouse, staring into space. He had been able to accept the fact that Castiel was not an actual angel; that he was a creature from a different realm that once walked among men. Heck, it had made it a little easier knowing the holy tax accountant was at least a little more on the same level with Dean. However, it now seemed his friend was a monster. Dean hunted monsters. He hated monsters—but Dean didn't have the strength for anger now. First, there was the revelation about Sam's betrayal, now this. Dean reached up from where he sat on the floor and snagged the house-phone off its hook and dialed the only other person he could count on: Bobby. The grouch didn't answer. After several phone calls to Bobby's contacts, Dean discovered Bobby was in a coma. Dean felt compelled to rush to the hospital and be there for Bobby, but he knew he had to find Sam. His brother hadn't been seen at the hospital. There was only one thing that could keep Sammy away: he was in trouble. All the feelings of hurt and betrayal washed away and were replaced with concern.

Dean sat up and grimaced, holding his side. His insides still hurt, but it seemed everything was still where it was supposed to be. "Frank's" car was still parked outside. Poor bastard probably had no idea what he had welcomed into himself when that "angel" entered him.

As Dean drove down the lonely dirt road his worry increased. It seemed Sam had gone off the grid entirely—every phone, every contact turned into a dead end.

Finally, a building jutted out against the backdrop of the desolate scenery. It was a filling station. This scenario reminded him all too vividly of the last time he'd…popped up. The first thing he looked for after he broke in was a newspaper. He dreaded finding the date and discovering how long he'd been gone this time. Seven weeks to the day since he'd drained dry in that skivvy motel bathroom. He shuddered at the remembrance. Then the front page headline drew his attention:

**Another Earthquake Shakes New York**

Dean read the article that followed. A lot had happened while he'd been away. Fires raged across the west coast, tornadoes and storms of epic proportions ravaged the Midwest countryside, tsunamis crushed and flooded the southern borders, and of course earthquakes out east. It seemed the natural disasters weren't limited to the States, either. It was a worldwide phenomenon. There were also reports all over of strange animal attacks. _The gates Cas opened,_ Dean thought grimly._ Wonder what fuglies are roaming the earth now._

* * *

><p>Jutting out across the landscape were shadowy silhouettes of the skeletal remains of black, charred buildings. Two figures, one shorter, one tall with longish hair blowing frantically in the acrid wind, surveyed the destruction from a hill overlooking the scene.<p>

"It could not be helped, Sam. Those monsters were part of the new army Lucifer is forming. Nothing else could have destroyed them. They were created out of fire, and only in fire could they be unmade." Jesse said.

Sam nodded and swallowed heavily. His eyes watered, partially from the smoke filled air, but also with regret. Thousands of people had died due to their actions. However, the creatures wreathed in fire would have caused further destruction if they had not acted.

Jesse looked up at Sam. The boy's eyes had changed dramatically over the weeks. Their depths seemed to burn. That was nothing compared to what happened when the boy used his powers—then his eyes blazed brightest red. Jesse's power had grown to astronomical heights, and Sam found himself trembling in his presence sometimes.

"Sacrifices must be made in this war. This is not the first, nor the last of the destruction you will see."

Sam nodded, but his gut twisted as he looked out over the expanse of city turned to charcoal.

* * *

><p>Dean made his way to Bobby's. He didn't know where else to start. Ever since his Dad had died, Bobby's had become home base—a place to go when all else failed. But when Dean arrived at the junkyard abode he realized it was the man, not the place that made it what it was. As Dean sat in the abandoned living room the empty and hollow spaces filled with memories, images of people and times that seemed worlds away. His only hope was that Sam, too, would eventually make his way back to Bobby's drawn by the same instinct.<p>

It was past midnight when Dean awoke to a sound. He sat up and listened, trying to identify the disturbance.

The front door squeaked open and footsteps in the kitchen made the floorboards whine under the pressure. Dean snatched his gun from the side table by the couch and absently swiped his hand over the knife in his belt. Crouching, he approached the far wall, and peeped into the kitchen. Discernable in the darkness was a tall shadow moving past the table. Dean padded softly forward on the balls of his feet, gun raised. In a flurry, an arm knocked the pistol from his grasp, and a knee to his gut hindered his grope for the knife at his side. Dean fell to his knees, gasping as his attacker raised both arms together and pounded his fists into the back of Dean's neck like a sledgehammer. Dean's face hit the tiled floor and black dots danced in his line of sight. He barely registered a voice command,

"Stop!" Then a face appeared before him, a mop of scraggily hair framing its familiar features.

"Sammy…?"

"Yeah, Dean. Here." Sam offered an assisting arm and pulled Dean to his feet. Dean's vision swam for a moment, so he didn't see the moisture in Sam's eyes as he regarded his very much alive, if somewhat dazed, brother.

Another dark figure appeared in Dean's sight, and he blinked, swaying slightly on his feet. Sam guided Dean to the table and sat him in a chair. The lights flicked on, and Dean saw his brother clearly for the first time. Their eyes met and simultaneously they smiled.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Dean."


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Dean."

Both of their voices were hoarse with unspoken, raw emotion, but it was enough to relay everything they felt.

"Nine lives," Dean smirked.

The boys approached and grabbed each other in a brotherly embrace.

"Make that six, now." Sam said, his chin on Dean's shoulder. That earned another smirk from Dean.

The brothers stepped back, slapping each other on the back somewhat awkwardly, then Dean saw the other person in the room. "Person" was too generous a term for the creature. It was black all over, and its fingers were wide, stubby claws. If Dean didn't know better, he'd say it was a gargoyle minus the wings.

Sam answered the question spoken wordlessly by Dean's open mouth and vacant expression.

"This is Romanus. An ally."

Dean waited for more information. Sam sighed.

"He's a seely wight who came through one of the gates that opened."

"He's a who?" Dean gaped.

"Wight. An ancient creature. And seely, or friendly to humans."

Dean shook his head, eyes wide, "Yeah, sure. That explains everything." He rubbed the back of his neck gingerly.

"Sorry about that. He didn't know you weren't an enemy."

"He doesn't look very sorry." Dean said, nodding his head in Romanus' direction.

"They don't talk very much." Sam said.

"Hmn." Dean grunted.

Later, the boys were seated on Bobby's couch nursing a couple of beers and Romanus was outside keeping guard and Sam asked the question that had been floating on the air since their meeting,

"So, what happened?"

Dean looked into space for a moment, his face chiseled into a practiced unreadable stare.

"I dunno, man." Dean met Sam's gaze. "I mean, I remember the motel bathroom and then…nothing." Sam watched his brother's hazel eyes flicker slightly to the side. Dean's irises always appeared more green when he was under emotional stress. Right now they were emerald. Sam raised an eyebrow,

"Like how you _didn't _remember Hell?"

Dean grunted at the accusation, "No. 'Sides, you think after all I did this time around that's where I'd be headed? Jeez, Sam. What a way to think of your brother—who saved your hide, by the way." He held up two fingers, "Twice."

Guilt welled up inside of Sam, but he quelled it and donned his own mask, "What, so we're keeping score, now?"

Dean chuckled; relieved the conversation was heading down different avenues. The last thing he wanted to reveal was that he'd seen and had foreknowledge of Sam murdering him. Nothing was decided, anyway, right? Dean didn't know, but as the brothers joked and carried on, a sickening feeling seeped into his stomach as he plastered a smile on his face and forced a laugh. When the conversation shifted to the topic of Bobby, Dean was thankful to be released from his charade and fall into seriousness of the conversation. The doctors didn't think their uncle would ever regain consciousness, but that he would just slowly slip away into the permanent sleep of death.

The discussion then turned to the true nature of the angels, Castiel and how he came to Dean's rescue and the subsequent unexpected betrayal.

"Wow. That's…a lot to absorb," Sam murmured.

Dean bit his lip, "Yeah."

"So what's he doing now? What's his endgame?"

"My guess is he's finding as many entrances to other 'worlds' as possible, soaking up as much power as he can so that he can ice the devil."

"So what did he want with the Amulet? He tried using it before, didn't he? And why did it burn him now, and not then?"

Dean put his hands over his ears and stood up, "Man, Sammy! You think I have the answers? I'm just as much in the dark about all this as you are." Dean rubbed a hand across his hair, its short ends spiking out in every direction.

Sam realized how much Castiel's betrayal had affected Dean, and laid off.

"Okay. Sorry, man. Remember, you always got me to back you up."

Dean turned his back briefly to Sam, closed his eyes tightly in pain as his breath hitched uncertainly. The image of Sam pounding him and crushing his throat bombarded his brain forcefully: "Sammy…no…please!"

Dean shook the image and the sound of his own voice begging for mercy out of his head.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam had stood up and approached his brother. Dean shied away involuntarily.

"Yeah," Dean said hoarsely. He turned an exhausted face to his brother. "Just tired." He gave Sam the best impression of his winning smile. The smile didn't reach his eyes, and Sam noticed.

"Okay, well we can pick this up in the morning. I have someone I want you meet."

Dean's eyebrows came together thoughtfully, "Yeah? Okay, well, see you tomorrow." He trudged the distance to the spare bedroom slowly.

Sam watched as his brother disappeared behind the bedroom door, and then glanced out the kitchen window, meeting Romanus' eyes gazing into the house. Looking down guiltily, Sam rubbed the top of his hand and shifted his weight from foot to another and thought to himself,

_What am I doing?_

**A/N: Stay tuned to discover what Sam actually is doing and why he's ashamed. Also, I'm wonderin what you folks thought of the brotherly moment at the beginning of this chap. Was it too much, too little? What do you think?**


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